Mine is a trailing vine's tendrilled life-
nature cut oblong
cloaked in green striped frock,
soon soiled and ragged.
Ground-bound, I crawl
halt at ditch distance,
squat still
fecund as an egg, groomed
by sun ,shower and storm,
hearing the hours chime-
till rust stained
agog with incense
I waft bower scent, garden taste
through what man lacks-
love and peace prone
sweet heart
its sharing with whole of
mankind as mother mission
at the service of
an absolute decree
in laid-back manner.

Poetry by yoonoos peerbocus
Read 79 times
Written on 2023-10-30 at 00:23

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The rhythm in this poem is so good. Reading it, and it must be read out loud I feel, the words slip out like a roller coaster. I love it! Great Job.